


Rush To My Side

by ashamedbliss



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dad!Arthur, Falling In Love, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, Rescue, set around Christmas but not explicitly a Christmas fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-03 17:04:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2858357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashamedbliss/pseuds/ashamedbliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merlin answers a phone call from a little girl in need, the last things he expects to encounter are a nosy half-sister, a darling daughter and a father who might just make him fall in love again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm much more a fan of posting a work once it's done (as you can see by my abandoned An Officer and a Gentleman) but this is a Christmas present for my dear Anita so I had to post it some time! Thank you to Anita for all her help and I hope I can get some more of this up soon!

“If you don’t get your arse out of bed right now, there won’t be any pancakes left.”

Merlin blinks himself awake, trying to burrow further under his duvet as his room permanently cold in the winter months. “Just tell Lance to not eat them all,” he calls back to his flatmate, attempting to dive back into his dream that included a dozen or so topless Daniel Craigs. Illogical, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Merlin, your shift starts in an hour. Get. Up.”

Merlin groans, bracing himself before whipping the duvet off his body and instantly pouncing for his warm dressing gown. In the kitchen, the aforementioned pancakes are set on the tiny table, with Lance sheepishly putting down his knife and fork and Gwen hovering over his shoulder.

Merlin sits down cautiously.

“What’s going on?” he asks, looking between their smiles warily. They look at each other at the same time, smiles only growing wider. Merlin raises an eyebrow, something he learnt to do a long time ago from his manager at work, before he points at his plate. “Pancakes are not the norm. Except on Pancake Day, apart from that time Lance made them and--”

“Please don’t remind me,” Lance says, hanging his head slightly in shame.

Gwen sighs. “We just know how busy you get at work at this time of year, and you take on so many shifts--”

“A ridiculous amount, if I’m honest, Merlin--” Lance interjects.

“And sometimes you forget to take care of yourself. So, as your favourite flatmate--”

“My only flatmate,” Merlin grumbles under his breath.

“--I decided to take care of you instead,” Gwen finishes, spreading her hands and beaming.

Merlin looks at Gwen, then he looks at Lance (who shrugs as if he didn’t have any part in this whatsoever), then he looks at Gwen again. “I am 27, you know. I didn’t get to this age by magic.”

“Merlin--”

“Gwen,” Merlin starts, taking a sip of his orange juice (smooth, because Gwen really is a goddess and she remembered that he doesn’t like the bits). “I love you, I really-- Lance don’t look at me like that-- I love you like the sister I never had, but I don’t need babying. I’m fine. And I work extra shifts at Christmas because people are in need and I like helping people. It’s got absolutely, totally, one hundred percent nothing to do with the fact that this time last year Cenred--”

“Alright, Merlin,” Gwen says softly, rounding the table to hug him from behind. “It’s okay. Go get ready for work, you’ll be late.”

Merlin exhales, before taking a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. Thank you, Gwen,” he says, standing from the table. “And feel free to have these, Lance,” he says, gesturing to his practically untouched breakfast.

Less than an hour later, Merlin is settling down at his desk with a coffee when someone claps him on the back.

“It’s the _most_ wonderful time, of the year,” Gwaine croons into Merlin’s ear, before Merlin laughs quietly and pushes Gwaine away.

“Fuck off Gwaine,” Merlin says, but he’s still laughing. He glances over his cubicle partition at the other workers in their headsets. “Are you coming off night shift?”

“Yeah,” Gwaine says, leaning against Merlin’s desk as Merlin begins to log in to his computer, complete with two screens. “You know how Friday nights are, lots of paramedics to send to the clubs, lots of prank calls, the same as always.” Gwaine feigns a yawn, before following it up with a real one. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it. We need to go for a beer some time and talk about your failing love life.”

“More like have you tell me about all the girls you’ve _destroyed_ ,” Merlin retorts, fingers curling in the air to make quotation marks.

“Oh, Merlin, I am but a gentleman to my sweet lady companions,” Gwaine grins, and Merlin pushes him away again. “Gaius is giving me the eyebrow, I’ll go. Have a good shift.”

“You too,” Merlin mutters distractedly, even though Gwaine’s heading home for a well earned sleep. He glances towards the small room at the end of the office and Gaius standing at the door of it. He gives his boss a cheery wave (which isn’t returned) before he puts on his headset and goes live.

His first call comes through five seconds later.

“Hello, this is the ambulance.”

“There’s been a car accident. There’s... God, there’s blood everywhere.”

“Okay, can you give me a location please?” Merlin asks calmly, ready to put the information into his special computer program.

“Yeah, it’s King’s Street, outside the Poundland, I’m sorry I don’t know the exact address.” The voice is female, she sounds worried. Merlin tries not to think about it.

“Okay, I’m arranging help now. Can you tell me how many people are injured?”

“I... God, there’s someone shouting, I don’t know.”

“Could you find out for me please? You’re doing very well,” Merlin says, and he means it from the bottom of his heart.

*

Merlin never finds out what happens to the people who need the ambulances he sends, except on very rare occasions. As he heats up a Pot Noodle in the break room for lunch (because yes, he _does_ look after himself, at least he does now because he never used to even stop for lunch after the break-up, didn’t need it), the local news is playing on BBC, and there’s a mention of a severe car crash in Camelot’s town centre.

Two dead, one seriously injured.

Merlin turns off the television. He doesn’t need to know any more.

*

Sipping on another coffee from the machine, wishing it was actually from Costa, Merlin glances at the clock on his screen and wills the last hour of his shift to go quickly. His plans for the evening involve heading home, watching Love Actually for the second time this December (although no one needs to know that) and eating a pint of ice cream. He wishes he was going out on a date with a nice bloke who’s actually interested in him instead.

His phone rings.

“Hello, this is the ambulance.”

The line is silent, and Merlin watches the seconds increase on his timer, counting down until he disconnects the call as per protocol. He hears shuffling, though, and a young girl’s voice. “Hello?” she says. She sounds like she’s crying, she can’t be more than three or four.

Merlin swallows. “Hello, love. What’s the problem?”

“Daddy fell down the stairs and now he’s asleep,” the little girl says, and then slightly away from the receiver she says, “Daddy please wake up”.

“Can you shout that in Daddy’s ear for me please, darling? Just to make sure he can hear you.”

He hears the girl shouting again, wincing as she does it right next to the receiver, before she hiccups. “I don’t think he can hear me.”

“Is Daddy breathing?” Merlin asks, trying to remember the last time he took a call from a child this young, and then also trying to work out how best to go through his normal procedure. “Can you see Daddy’s chest going up and down?”

A pause, before the girl shuffles. “Daddy’s sleeping on his front. He’s at the bottom of the stairs.”

“Alright, sweetheart, can you see if Daddy’s back is moving up and down? Or can you reach his mouth or nose, can you feel his breath on your hand?”

“Um,” the girl says, moving at the other end of the line. “It’s all warm.”

“Do you mean his breath?”

“Yes.”

Merlin exhales slowly. The man has a fighting chance if he’s still breathing; if he hadn’t been, it could’ve been a lot worse. Knowing that the girl’s father is breathing means he has a little bit more time available to him. “Okay, can you tell me your name?”

“Maisie.”

“Maisie! That’s a very pretty name. Do you have a last name?” Merlin asks, bringing up a directory on his second screen. There’s no way a child of her age would know her address, so he’s hoping he can bring up her location by other means.

“Pendragon,” she says proudly. “Daddy tells me stories about dragons a lot.”

“Does he now,” Merlin mutters distractedly. He puts the name into the directory, but he already has a suspicion. The Pendragons are a very well known family in Camelot due their involvement in charity, and they live in a manor on the edge of town, which is the exact address given on his screen. “Do you live in a big house, Maisie? Are you the princess of the castle? 

The little girl giggles very briefly at the end of the line, and Merlin wants to smile. “Yes, I am,” she declares, before she pauses. “Can you help my daddy?”

“Of course I can. I’m sending an ambulance there right now. Can you do me a favour, Maisie? Can you make sure the front door is open?” _Why isn’t the place crawling with serving staff, waiting on them hand and foot?_ Merlin thinks but doesn’t ask.

“I can’t leave Daddy.”

“You can leave him for a couple of moments, just to open the door for the ambulance people. Can you see the door from where Daddy is?”

“Yes. I’ll open the door. Are you coming as well?”

Merlin laughs for a moment, because he can hear sirens at the other end of the line, the ambulance must be making its way up the gravel drive. His job is nearly done. “No, sweetheart. I have to help other girls and boys save their mummies and daddies, just like you.”

“They couldn’t save my mummy,” Maisie says quietly, and before Merlin can open his mouth to respond he hears the paramedics talking to Maisie. “The nice people are here to help Daddy,” Maisie says, sounding somewhat brighter. “Thank you.”

Merlin smiles. “Bye bye, Maisie.”

The general hum of the call centre is miles away from the paramedics now tending to little Maisie Pendragon’s father. Realising the time, Merlin clocks off, making sure his calls go through to other operators, before he makes his way through the cubicles towards Gaius’ office.

“Come in.”

“Don’t the Pendragons run Support for Soldiers?”

“Well hello Merlin, nice to see you too,” Gaius says as he looks up from his paperwork, sitting back in his chair before arching an eyebrow.

Merlin sighs, slumping unasked into the chair opposite Gaius. “I just had a call from a Maisie Pendragon. She sounded... it was the youngest call I’ve ever taken.”

Gaius gives Merlin another second of the eyebrow before turning to his computer, typing a few words on the keyboard. “Maisie Pendragon, born in 2010 to Arthur Pendragon, CEO of Support for Soldiers, a military charity, and Sophia Pendragon, a fashion designer.” He turns the monitor towards Merlin, a photograph on Google showing a handsome blond man papped with a young brunette woman.

“So he’s the man I saved?” Merlin asks. “How come she wasn’t at home then, surely she doesn’t need to go out to work, she can do that there?”

“Well, according to this article,” Gaius begins, tapping at a Wikipedia page, “she died giving birth to Maisie, just as Arthur’s mother did to him.”

“Oh. Fuck.”

“Indeed,” Gaius says, turning back to Merlin and steepling his fingers. “You look terrible, Merlin.”

“Thanks.”

“Go home and get some rest. I’m sure Mister Pendragon is just fine, it’ll probably be all over the news tomorrow either way.”

Merlin grimaces, before he nods. “You’re right. See you tomorrow, Gaius.”

*

“You’re definitely Mark.”

“How am I Mark? I’m not hopelessly in love with someone I can’t have. I’m Colin.”

“Colin is a self-confessed prick, love, and you’re not self-confessed.”

“Gwen!”

Gwen giggles, ducking the cushion thrown at her whilst successfully managing to keep the ice cream tub in her lap. Merlin watches another of Love Actually’s stories unfold on the screen of the little telly in the lounge of their flat, gesturing with his spoon as he talks.

“I guess I am Mark a bit, though, because I end up single at the end... and I’m Natalie, because she had the dickhead ex-boyfriend--”

“He admits it! It’s a miracle!” Gwen mock-shouts, but Merlin has ran out of cushions to throw at her.

“And I guess I’m Sarah too, a bit, because she gets close to liking someone but there’s always people calling her...”

“That’s a _very_ tenuous link.”

“Alright, fine, I’m Billy Mack, and you’re my fat, ugly manager.”

This time, Gwen throws the cushion back at Merlin, who dodges it with an undignified squeak.

“Enough of me. Who are you then Gwen?”

“I’m the porn star. Well, actress. At the end of the film, anyway.”

“Of course you are,” Merlin says, rolling his eyes. “I’m telling Lance. It’ll make him blush.”

“Don’t be mean. You know, any other woman would say you’re jealous,” Gwen says, but there’s a smile on her face. “There’s someone out there for you, Merlin. You know that.”

“You saying it doesn’t mean it’ll happen any faster,” Merlin sighs, but he knows Gwen is right. He keeps spooning ice cream into his mouth throughout the film, and tries to ignore his chest feeling tight every time a couple embraces on screen.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin is startled out of his thoughts Monday morning as a newspaper lands on his desk.

 

> _CHARITY MAN SAVED BY TODDLER’S 999 CALL_

“A little birdy told me you took a call from a certain Maisie Pendragon on Saturday,” Gwaine says, a shit eating grin on his face and two Christmas coffee cups in his hands. He gives the snowman one to Merlin, as he sips at a reindeer one himself.

“Out of all the women in this call centre, Gaius ends up being the biggest gossip of all,” Merlin says after rolling his eyes, scanning the first lines of the _Camelot Daily_ ’s front page.

 

> _Arthur Pendragon, head of the military charity Support for Soldiers, was saved yesterday after his four year old daughter made a 999 call when he fell down a flight of stairs. Arthur, 30, was knocked unconscious by the fall, and he suffered from minor concussion and bad bruising to his left leg. Without the rapid phone call from Maisie, the situation could have been much worse._
> 
> _“I’m very proud of my daughter,” Arthur told us yesterday, from his bed in the Ygraine du Bois ward of Camelot Hospital. “She was very brave and remembered everything she had been taught. She told me that a ‘lovely’ man helped her get an ambulance sent out to me. I for one would love to meet not only the paramedics who tended to me but also the operator who took the call, and might possibly have saved my life_.”

Merlin puts the paper down. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. You might be in for some megabucks,” Gwaine grins, and Merlin elbows him.

“He’s old money, you don’t earn that much by running a charity,” Merlin says distractedly, looking at the photo of Arthur and Maisie, a father smiling lovingly at toddler learning to walk. The caption said it was taken in 2012, the same kind of time Merlin had been with Cenred. It feels lifetimes ago now.

“But still, he’s single, attractive and I know for a fact you haven’t gotten laid since you were dumped by Cenred.”

“Gwaine!” Merlin nearly shouts, before he checks himself and shoves heavily at his friend instead. “He’s also most probably straight anyway. I mean, he had a wife for God’s sake.”

“And the daughter thing doesn’t bother you?” Gwaine asks with an arched eyebrow.

“What? No,” Merlin says, rolling his eyes again. “She seemed like a sweet enough girl. Don’t you have calls to be taking?”

Gwaine laughs for a moment under his breath, before finishing the rest of his coffee and throwing it in the bin under Merlin’s desk. “I’m on break. Well, was. See you later,” Gwaine grins, walking away with a spring in his step. Merlin watches him, because he knows Gwaine, and Gwaine has some kind of scheme plotted that Merlin probably won’t like.

Merlin puts on his headset and takes his first call.

*

“Daddy!”

“In here, princess.”

Maisie comes skidding into view in her tiny school uniform, complete with striped blazer and bonnet. “Daddy,” she smiles, before skipping daintily up to the plush armchair her father sits in and attempting to scramble into his lap. She has a piece of paper in her hand, a crayon drawing.

“Careful, darling, you know Daddy’s hurt his leg,” Arthur says, huffing as he pulls his daughter up into his lap, nestling her on his good leg. “You’re getting heavy, you little tyke,” he says, tickling her ribs and smiling when she shrieks with laughter. “How was school?”

“It was really good!” Maisie giggles, beginning to animatedly recall her day of singing and drawing. Arthur smoothes down her unruly blonde hair, the curls something she inherited from her mother, watching her blue eyes dance around the room as she searches for the right words to describe the events of the day.

The main trait she inherited from her mother, Arthur decides, is her ability to find joy in every little thing in the world.

“And Amelia looked so pretty in her costume, Daddy, and I don’t mind not being Mary because she looked very lovely.”

“Sorry, poppet, what was that?” Arthur asks, blinking himself back into his daughter’s story.

“I was telling you about the nativity, Daddy,” she smiles, reaching up to touch his face, and Arthur remembers the first time she did that as a baby, just hours after her mother’s death. “I’m going to be an _angel_ ,” she sighs, grinning a toothy smile.

“You already _are_ an angel,” he says, kissing her forehead.

“But angels have wings! And a dress! Look, I drew you a picture,” she says, thrusting the paper in Arthur’s face. A yellow haired angel smiles on the paper, next to a man in a suit who must be Arthur himself. They’re holding hands. “And Miss Alice says I’ll need a halo too, and I have to learn songs. She told us to get our mummies to make our dresses, but...”

Maisie’s bottom lip juts out, and Arthur puts his thumb against it and gently pushes it back in. “Pendragons don’t cry, darling,” he says softly, before holding her little body closer to his chest. “You know, your mother used to make the most beautiful dresses.”

“She did?” Maisie asks in a voice thick with unshed tears.

“She did,” Arthur says, and he realises that this is where he would normally change the topic of conversation, avoiding talking about Sophia at all, just as his father had always refused to talk about Ygraine. Arthur licks his lips. “She used to make dresses fit for queens, darling. Actually... I think she did design one for one of the princesses, once. Your mother... Mummy was very talented. She could make any dress from any fabric for any sized woman, within hours. She was magical. Absolutely magical.”

 _Pendragons do not cry_.

Arthur swallows, blinks for one long second, and continues.

“If she were here today, she would have made you the most beautiful dress in all of Albion, Maisie, don’t ever doubt that. But she isn’t here, and... well, do you remember that time Daddy tried to make Dolly some clothes?”

Maisie smiles timidly. “You made your fingers bleed with the needle.”

“That’s it,” Arthur smiles. “I think I’ll let Morgana make your dress, yes?”

Maisie claps her hands together and giggles. In lieu of a mother figure, Maisie had taken a shining to Arthur’s half-sister, a woman who had appeared in Arthur’s life only when Sophia had been pregnant. They weren’t particularly close, but for the sake of family Arthur lets Morgana spend time with Maisie, who loves the attention and is none the wiser of the siblings’ uneasy relationship.

“Morgana can make your dress, and I can make you a halo,” Arthur says, already designing something in the back of his mind. “I’m not good at sewing but I can make you something. And I can find you some beautiful wings, too. You’ll be the prettiest angel of all.”

Maisie squirms happily, reaching up to kiss her father on his stubbled cheek. “Thank you, Daddy! Can I call Morgana?”

Arthur pauses for a moment, watching the excitement on his daughter’s face, the only true family he has left. “Of course you can, go on,” he says, but Maisie is sliding off his lap and skipping out of the room before he’s even finished his sentence. He shifts in his seat but as pain flares in his leg, he clutches the arm of chair to take the strain off it. His fingers close around a piece of paper, and as he resettles he unfurls it, looking at the drawing of himself and Maisie.

“Never grow up,” he whispers, tipping his head back as he holds the drawing to his chest. “Please, never grow up.”

*

Arthur is working in his office when there’s a knock on his door. “Come in.”

“You know, we should really get an office in town, so you actually can leave the house every once in a while.”

Arthur stands up immediately, bracing himself on the desk as Leon leans against his doorway. “It’s good to see you too,” Arthur smirks, limping slightly as he rounds his desk to embrace his friend.

“It’s nice to not be the only one limping for once,” Leon says into Arthur’s shoulder, before they both laugh.

“How did it go?” Arthur asks, stepping back slightly. Leon leans against the edge of Arthur’s desk, before he pulls up his right trouser leg, exposing a prosthetic limb. “Oh, wow,” Arthur says, crouching down with difficulty. “That looks so much better than the last one.”

“Yeah, because it’s good quality,” Leon says, before dropping his trouser leg again and straightening up. He helps Arthur to his feet again. “Arthur, I--”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Arthur smiles, putting his hand on his friend and colleague’s shoulder. “This one was from the charity. The other one, well, I might make that a Christmas present.”

Leon shoves at him, grinning, and they both laugh. Arthur looks around his darkly furnished office as he steps back. “Come on. Let’s get out of here for a bit. I’ll take my laptop, we’ll do this in a nice coffee shop or something.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Leon agrees with a nod.

Half an hour later, Arthur and Leon sit in the Starbucks on Camelot's high street, papers strewn between them and a latte each.

“The fundraisers are all well and good but I think we need to engage more with the local military community,” Leon argues, stabbing at the paper as if it were one of the enemy. “People need to know how the money is being used, which I think is where the other military charities fail to deliver.”

Arthur hums, sipping at his coffee before he sets it back down on the table. “Do you want to take that on, then? I presume you still have all the connections...”

“I meet up with the boys for beers every now and then, yeah,” Leon says, rubbing a hand along his cropped beard. “You know... it’s been six years, but we’re all still as close as we were when I... well, when I was discharged. And the regiment, they’re so grateful for all the help. One of the lads lost all four limbs, bless him, only eighteen, and here I am complaining about losing my legs,” Leon says, smiling sadly before sipping on his coffee.

“My father would’ve had a fit if I’d gone into the military,” Arthur says, the corner of his mouth twitching as he imagines Uther’s reaction. “He would’ve only approved if I’d gone in as an officer, but I always was a bit more business minded. Plus, I was upset when I found out the cavalry don’t actually ride horses into battle anymore.”

Leon snorts into his coffee and spends the next minute getting all of the cream out of his beard. “It’s weird how it all turned out, isn’t it?” he asks Arthur when they’ve both quietened down.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you know. You going to posh school like that’s what you were born to do and me getting in because I played rugby. How we were friends, and then we weren’t because I fancied Sophia, and you...” Leon swallows, looking down at the table. “And then how I went into the Army, and got blown up, and you turn up out of the blue at hospital with a cheque worth more than my salary for some new legs.”

“It wasn’t because I felt sorry for you--”

“Better not have been because you fancied me, either,” Leon jokes, and Arthur chokes on his coffee, instantly turning red.

“Leon,” Arthur says, looking around the coffee shop, “you can’t--”

“You’re alright, Arthur, I’m hardly going to go shouting about it, am I?” Leon says with an easy smile, and Arthur remembers how to breathe again. “I think that concussion took out a few of your brain cells, too.”

“Oh, piss off,” Arthur says warmly.

“It’s lucky Maisie remembered what to do when things like that happen.”

Arthur nods, shuffling together some of his papers, their work done for the afternoon. “You know how I send the staff home on the weekends, it was only her in the house... she’s a godsend, she is.”

“How did you even fall down the stairs anyway? You’ve got two legs that actually _work_ ,” Leon grins, and Arthur smirks, unable to fathom how he managed to fall down a staircase he’d walked up and down thousands of times. “And talking about things I couldn’t believe, you then went and did an interview from your hospital bed!”

“They’d given me a fair amount of painkillers, I’m not entirely sure I was all there to be honest,” Arthur shrugs, glancing out of the window at the now darkening sky.

“And you want to meet him? The guy who spoke to Maisie on the phone?”

Arthur nods. “I managed to meet the paramedics yesterday, actually, just before I was discharged, and it was pretty routine for them by the time they got to me. Really nice ladies, they were. But the dispatcher... he probably doesn’t talk to a kid every day, does he? I’d like to meet him, I think the newspaper wants to do it as an interview type thing, well, if the poor lad says yes.”

Leon grins, and Arthur knows it’s what Leon does when he’s about to say something he probably shouldn’t say. “You never know, this might be the start of a beautiful friendship. Or, maybe even something more.”

“Don’t be a dick,” Arthur laughs under his breath, desperately wishing that Leon hadn’t planted that seed of hope in his head.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay, another chapter! I have exams next week so I don't know when the next one will be (although over the past 5 years every time I've said this I've then gone and written loads so who knows!). Arthur and Merlin finally meet in this one, hurray. hope you like it!

Wednesday afternoon, as Merlin is clocking off his day shift, a blonde woman in a sharp suit appears between himself and the coffee machine. “Um. Can I help you?”

The woman smiles brightly, outstretching a hand. “You’re Merlin, aren’t you? My name’s Elena, I work for the _Camelot Daily_.”

Merlin blinks at her, tired after eight hours of a snow filled school day, including no less than three major incidents and thirteen hoax calls. “That’s nice,” he says, making to move towards the coffee machine again.

Elena laughs daintily. “Didn’t your manager tell you? I’m here to interview you, about the call you took from Maisie Pendragon?”

Merlin sighs. The office had been constantly praising and congratulating him for dealing with the call, but he just thought it was part of his job. Now he’d had a few days to think about it, he didn’t really want that much of a fuss made.

Although, he wouldn’t mind meeting her father.

Just so make sure he was alright, of course.

“Merls, don’t be rude to such a lovely lady,” Gwaine says, appearing at Merlin’s side in a flash. “I’m Gwaine, fellow life-saver, ex-firefighter,” he smiles, taking Elena’s extended hand and kissing her knuckles. She giggles.

“And the most arrogant bloke in the office,” Merlin adds under his breath. “Elena, I’m sorry, but I’m not really up for doing an interview, I’ve just come off shift and--”

Elena frowns. “Alright. I guess I’ll have to let little Maisie know she can’t meet her hero,” she says, sighing dramatically and bringing out her mobile phone.

Merlin’s stomach drops. “Wait, what? She’s here?”

“With her father, of course,” Elena says, and Gwaine nudges Merlin in the ribs because he can read him like a book. “We can cancel, but I’m sure they’ll be disapp--”

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it,” Merlin says, pointedly looking between the two of them (both grinning) before he sighs. “Can I at least get a coffee first?”

*

A few minutes later, Merlin sits with a steaming coffee between his hands, the warmth reaching his skin through the crockery. An untouched tea set sits before him, the newspaper having gone all out to cater for their interviewees, perhaps in order to get a better story.

The only thing they’re missing now is the other interviewees.

Merlin looks around the room, an empty office that Gaius must’ve cleaned up recently, four chairs set out around a tiny table of which two were occupied. “You said they were here?”

Elena huffs, pulling up the sleeve of her jacket to check her watch. “They were here exactly four minutes ago. I’ll go find them.”

“No,” Merlin says, setting his much-needed coffee down on the tea tray. A small sacrifice for finally meeting Arthur Pendragon. “Let me. I know this place like the back of my hand, they might’ve gotten lost.”

Merlin leaves the journalist to it, making his way out of the main call centre and down the corridors towards reception. He hears voices down a side corridor, and peeks around the door.

“But what if he doesn’t like me?” he hears a little girl ask, obviously crying, and as Merlin cranes his neck he sees a small child in a Disney princess dress (Merlin is quite sure it’s from _Frozen_ but he would never admit to having watched that film of his own volition. Gwen made him watch it, he swears).

A blond man kneels before her, and as Merlin’s breath catches in his throat he realises it’s Arthur Pendragon.

“I’m sure he’ll like you, darling,” Arthur says, straightening out his daughter’s dress and then smoothing down her hair, blonde like her father’s and in a plait to one side. He plucks out his pocket square, opening up the handkerchief and dabbing at his daughter’s cheeks. “You can’t just run away when you’re scared. You have to be brave and face up to it,” Arthur says, before he pauses. “Please don’t cry. Daddy hates it when you cry.”

The little girl dips her head. “Can I have a hug?”

Arthur smiles, catching his daughter as she falls forward into a hug, smiling over her shoulder. When he looks up, the warm look in his eyes disappears as he notices Merlin staring, releasing his daughter.

“Can I help you?” Arthur asks in a cool tone, tucking his handkerchief away.

Merlin freezes, clearing his throat. God, he’s even more handsome in person. “I, um, sorry, I just--”

Arthur stands up, and Merlin realises he’s just as tall as him, and twice as broad. “Don’t you have calls to be taking instead of spying on people? This isn’t GCHQ, is it?” He offers Maisie his hand, and she takes it, looking curiously up at Merlin as her father pulls her along the corridor. Merlin flattens himself against the wall to let them pass.

“Of course he’d be a prat,” Merlin mutters under his breath, and Arthur stops in his tracks.

“Excuse me?” _Shit_.

Merlin smiles nervously, shrugging. “Oh, just, you know. I didn’t expect such a charitable man to be such a prat.”

Arthur squares up to Merlin, ignoring his daughter pulling on his hand. “Listen, you lanky sh--”

“Daddy!” Maisie squeaks, tugging on her father’s arm violently. “That’s the man from the telephone!”

Arthur’s jaw goes slack, looking from his daughter to Merlin and then back to his daughter again. “Are you sure?”

“Yes! Because he asked if I was the princess of the castle and I said yes!” Maisie shrieks happily. Merlin, despite himself and the pompous twat before him, smiles brightly.

“I see you’ve come in your royal attire, your highness,” Merlin says, mock bowing to the little girl who jumps up and down, squealing with excitement.

“Oh.” Arthur says, all earlier traces of his anger gone. If anything, Merlin could spot a faint blush high on his tanned cheeks.

Merlin smiles tightly at him, before turning to Maisie. “Come along, Princess Maisie, shall we go talk to the nice journalist?”

Maisie claps, taking Merlin’s hand and skipping along beside him. Merlin doesn’t see the glare aimed at his back; rather, he feels it burn his skin.

*

“So!” Elena says brightly, the only person in the room smiling aside from the ever-amused Maisie Pendragon. “I see you’ve all just met.”

“A really nice bloke,” Merlin says, voice thick with sarcasm. Arthur simply glares at him.

“Brilliant,” Elena says, either oblivious or ignoring the pair of them. “I’m recording with my dictaphone for my own notes, but I’ll only choose the juicy bits for the article. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Arthur replies dryly, and Merlin has to stifle a smirk. At least both of them don’t want to be doing this interview; that’s something they can reconcile their differences over. Merlin sips at the coffee he’d been given, finally, only to realise that it tastes like dirt. He sighs, setting it down again.

“First of all, Arthur, I want to play you the recording of the phone call Maisie made to 999 the day of your accident, just to get your reaction,” Elena says, fiddling around with a second tape recorder. Arthur’s Adam’s apple bobs as it starts playing.

Merlin watches the emotions play across Arthur’s face, and he finds his perceptions of the man opposite him changing. First, there’s sadness in his eyes as he hears how upset his daughter is, which soon turns to pride as, real-time, he hauls Maisie onto his lap from her own seat, hugging her tight as she recalls her ‘sleeping’ daddy. He stares blankly into space as Maisie is asked for her name, his eyes flicking up to Merlin’s when he realises how quickly Merlin put the pieces together to work out where he lived. Merlin watches as Arthur holds his Maisie tighter when she talks about not leaving her daddy, and when she mentions her mother, the grief on Arthur’s face is clear.

The room is silent when the tape clicks off.

“God,” Arthur says, voice thick with emotion. He presses his face into Maisie’s hair, and Merlin averts his gaze for a moment. How would he feel if his life had been entirely out of his hands? If his fate had been down to his only child and a stranger?

“Pendragons don’t cry, Daddy,” Maisie whispers loud enough for Merlin to hear, and he looks up to see the little girl stroking her father’s face softly. Merlin’s throat is tight.

Arthur takes a shuddering breath, sitting up straight. “Of course they don’t, darling,” he murmurs, kissing her hair quickly. He turns to Elena, tone gravelly. “I’m sure you can understand how moving this is.”

“How does it make you feel?” Elena asks eagerly. Merlin rolls his eyes at her wording.

“Very proud of Maisie. Extremely proud. But... it makes me realise how lucky I am. And how I owe my life to Merlin, in essence.” Merlin’s name is drawled like dripping honey, and he finds that he likes it. “The way he adapted to the situation... my mate Leon would love you.”

Merlin sits up slightly, cocking his head. “I’m sorry?”

“Leon was in the Army,” Arthur says, and Merlin realises just how blue his eyes are. “He loves people who can fit themselves into any situation. They’re all of the same mindset, they... Sorry, I’m getting sidetracked. The point is, Merlin knew exactly how to talk to Maisie.”

Elena beams at Merlin. “Do you take many calls from children, Merlin?”

“Not really,” he says, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. His t-shirt rides up slightly as he does so. “I think I’ve maybe had one or two before, but there’s always been someone else in the house, or they’ve been able to give the phone to the casualty. Maisie was my first proper call from a child. I think it went okay.” Merlin smiles at Maisie. “We got your Daddy back in one piece, didn’t we?”

Maisie smiles at him shyly.

“Arthur,” Elena says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “What did Maisie mean when she spoke about her mother?”

Arthur remains silent for a moment. Maisie shifts in his lap and he winces, setting her down on the floor. She crawls up into her own chair again. “I... She should never have known that. She must’ve overheard me talking to someone, because she should never, _ever_ have known that.” Arthur’s face is set with determination, looking at Maisie fiddle with the hem of her dress, unaware of the conversation around her. Arthur continues to watch her. “Sophia went into labour, there were complications, the ambulance didn’t arrive in time. I don’t blame anyone, I don’t hate anyone for it... I lost Sophia and I still miss her, of course I do, but when I look at Maisie...”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin murmurs. Arthur looks up at him, startled out of his reverie, and nods with a tight smile.

“Thank you.”

“Daddy?” Maisie says, looking crestfallen. “I’m sorry I told Merlin about Mummy.”

“You should never be sorry for talking about your Mummy,” Merlin finds himself saying. Arthur looks at him curiously. “Come here, Maisie, come on,” he says, getting out of his chair to kneel on the ground, Maisie cautiously approaching. “I still have my Mummy, but I never knew my Daddy. Mummy didn’t like talking about him.” Merlin pauses, thinking of how Hunith would withdraw in on herself any time Balinor was brought up, and decides not to mention it to Maisie. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t think about him. I think about him a lot. And you should think about your Mummy whenever you can.”

Merlin presses gently on the end of Maisie’s nose, and she giggles. “What’s this?” he asks, reaching behind her ear and retrieving a pound coin. “Look, it even has a dragon on it.”

Maisie’s eyes bug and her jaw drops, taking the coin from Merlin before turning to Arthur, who looks equally as puzzled. “You should ask Daddy to buy you some sweeties with that later,” he stage whispers, finding himself smiling when Arthur smiles down at him. He straightens up and sits in his seat again, dusting off his knees as Maisie gives the coin to her father.

“How do you do that?” Arthur asks.

“Do what?”

“Just... with children. Do you have kids yourself?”

Merlin laughs, startling an enchanted Elena, listening to their conversation with rapt attention. “No, no.”

“Anyone special in your life, Merlin?” Elena asks, and Merlin double takes. He wonders how much Gwaine managed to tell her about him in between cheesy chat up lines.

“Not at the moment,” he says, before taking a deep breath and deciding to just throw it out there, so the butterflies in his belly can be crushed before they can grow any further. “I split up with my boyfriend this time last year. Christmas Eve, actually.”

“Ouch,” Arthur says, and Merlin smiles. So the charitable Pendragon at least isn’t a homophobe. _Still a prat, though_ , Merlin thinks.

“Yeah, he dumped me. Ah well, better off anyway,” he says, looking at Maisie. “And the kid thing... I don’t know. I’ve just always had a knack for working with kids. They’re magic.”

Arthur smiles broadly at that, all teeth, and Merlin thinks he’s beautiful.

“So Arthur, often this kind of experience leads to people donating money to the ambulance service or something similar,” Elena begins, and Arthur smirks. “But you’re quite a charitable man already.”

“My father wanted me to go into the Army, actually, or at least into business,” Arthur says, before he laughs to himself. “So I decided to completely spite him and set up a charity, at least after Leon’s injury.” Arthur glances between Elena and Merlin, their confused expressions. “He lost his legs in Afghanistan.”

“God,” Elena and Merlin say in unison.

“We’re a bit of a haunted lot,” Arthur says softly, no sadness in his voice. “All of us are a bit odd. I mean, Leon’s my best mate, he knows everything about me. But he used to fancy Sophia when we were at school, and it’s only because I beat him to asking her to prom that we even began going out.” Arthur looks at Maisie again. “She’s the one thing in the family that’s whole, perfect. It’s why I’m very protective of her, I... Merlin, it’s probably why I was such a prat, as you put it, in the corridor back there. I’m sorry for that, but she means the world to me.”

“I understand,” Merlin says, nodding solemnly. “She’s wonderful.”

Arthur smiles softly at that.

“So should we be expecting any donations to the Camelot Ambulance Service any time soon?” Elena asks chirpily.

Arthur laughs again. “I’ll make a donation privately, of course, but I think Merlin is the one to thank here. I’ll perhaps buy him a drink later,” he says, looking at a Merlin who is trying desperately not to blush.

“I think that’s a fair enough donation,” Merlin says with a smirk beginning to grow on his lips. Arthur holds his gaze for another couple of seconds, just long enough to send the butterflies in Merlin’s belly into overdrive.

*

Once Elena has switched off the tape recorder and said goodbye (and was met outside the room by an awaiting Gwaine, the bastard), Merlin shows Arthur and Maisie out of the building, darkness having fallen around them as the interview had lasted a full hour.

“I just want to thank you again, Merlin,” Arthur says, his hands on Maisie’s shoulders as she stands in front of him. “I should’ve have been such a c--” he glances down at Maisie “clown earlier.”

“I think I called you a prat, if we’re being specific,” Merlin says, unable to help himself from grinning when Arthur smiles at the easy banter.

“I meant it, about that drink,” Arthur says, before checking his watch. “I can’t really tonight, Maisie needs a babysitter and an early night. Someone has her Nativity rehearsals tomorrow, doesn’t she?”

Maisie grins. “I’m going to be an angel.”

Merlin presses the tip of his index finger against her nose again. “You already _are_ an angel, you silly princess,” he says, and she giggles again.

“I still don’t understand how you...” Arthur begins, before he shakes his head. “No one else is as good with her.”

“I told you,” Merlin says, holding up his hands and wiggling his fingers. “ _Magic_.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a business card. “My mobile number is on here. I’d really like to take you out for that drink, Merlin,” he says with a sincere voice, and Merlin is half a second away from stepping forward and kissing Arthur when he remembers that that would result in a squished Maisie. “How does tomorrow night sound?”

“That’s good, actually. I have Friday off before I do a weekend shift. I mean, not that I plan on getting drunk or anything like that, I don’t... I’m rambling.”

Arthur smiles, offering Merlin the card. Merlin takes it from his fingers and pockets it as Arthur ruffles Maisie’s curly hair. “Say goodbye to Merlin, Maisie.”

“Bye-bye Merlin,” she smiles, waving.

Merlin bows again. “Your highness. It has been a pleasure,” he says, smiling when Maisie giggles, a smile that only grows when he sees the fond look in Arthur’s eyes. “I’ll see you soon,” he says, hoping he didn’t accidentally weigh down the words with too much promise.

Arthur takes Maisie’s hand, pulling a set of car keys out of his pocket and pressing the blipper. The indicators on a nearby Jaguar flash. “Text me,” he says with a wink.

Merlin must be hallucinating. He blames that awful coffee.


End file.
